


Hell's Greatest Punishment

by evilwriter37



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mind Control, Whump, aziraphale!whump, crowley!whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Hell possesses Crowley and makes him hurt Aziraphale as a way of punishing him.





	Hell's Greatest Punishment

“We can’t do it this way,” Crowley said. He was between Aziraphale’s legs. The angel lay on his back, all his beautiful skin bare. He’d rolled them around so that Crowley was on top of him like this. It was clear what he wanted.

“Why not?” Aziraphale asked, furrowing his brow.

“I… I’m afraid you’ll fall,” Crowley told him, rubbing a hand over his abdomen. “By having me inside you.”

Aziraphale gave a smile. “Crowley, that’s ridiculous.” He pulled himself up so that he was sitting in Crowley’s lap, wrapping his arms around him. He gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. “I won’t fall.”

“And how do you know?” Crowley asked, trailing fingers over his back to his wings. They liked to do this with their wings out. The feathers were very expressive. “We’re the first angel and demon to ever, uh, have sex.

Aziraphale frowned. “Oh, you’re no fun.”

“And you falling would be no fun,” Crowley said in all seriousness, a contrast to Aziraphale’s playful mood. “We don’t know what could happen.”

Aziraphale rolled my eyes. “My cock didn’t return your angel status, so I doubt yours could take it away.”

Crowley touched his face. “Please, just go with me on this one. I have a feeling it wouldn’t be good.” 

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale came in and kissed him.

  
  


Crowley moved his hand to touch his face… except he didn’t.  _ He  _ hadn’t moved his hand. Someone else - some _ thing _ else - had.

Crowley tried to open his mouth, to call for Aziraphale, as something was very wrong, but he couldn’t. He tried moving, again, with the same result. It seemed he didn’t have control of his own body and that something else did..

_ Hell _ , he realized. They’d mind controlled demons before, and had come close to doing it with him. He’d always had wards to protect himself from it, but now that he had figured they were going to forget about him, he’d let them drop, which, apparently, had been a bad idea.

Because now they were in him, in his head, his body, controlling his movements. They could do anything they wanted with him.

_ Release me from this! _

_ “You’re a traitor. You must pay.”  _ The answer was in Dagon’s voice. So she was the one doing this, probably under orders of Beelzebub. 

And suddenly, Crowley knew what they meant, knew how he was going to pay. He was in his and Aziraphale’s cottage in the South Downs, sitting in the kitchen after just finishing a cup of tea. Aziraphale was reading in the living room, completely unaware that he was in danger. Crowley wanted to open his mouth, to call to him, tell him to get out, but his jaw wouldn’t move. His mouth was frozen shut unless Dagon wanted to use it.

_ No! Not him! Anything but that! _

_ “It’s a fitting punishment for you.” _

_ No! Capture me, torture me, do anything you like! Just don’t hurt him! _

Dagon didn’t answer this time. Instead she was making his body move, standing up and going into the living room.

_ “Nice place you’ve got here, Crowley.” _

_ Get. Out. Of. My. Head. _

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice didn’t sound the same, because it wasn’t him using it. It didn’t have the same inflections or intonations. Only the sound was the same.

Aziraphale looked over the back of the couch at him. There was a smile on his face.

“Crowley, I’ve just been reading about the creation of cupcakes! It’s actually quite fascinating. It-”

“I don’t care.” Crowley would have never told him that, whether or not he did care. He liked to let Aziraphale ramble about the things that interested him. He went around to the front of the couch, standing tall over Aziraphale. Crowley wanted to warn him, but he had no way to.

_ Dagon, stop this! _

_ “Your angel’s pathetic. Let’s see how well he takes falling.” _

_ NO! _

Crowley knew what Dagon was going to do to Aziraphale now. Or, he thought he did. What he and Aziraphale couldn’t do because Crowley was afraid he would fall. Maybe it was true. Maybe Hell had found something. 

There was something Dagon couldn’t control. Tears formed in Crowley’s eyes, trickled down his face. He couldn’t wipe at them.

Aziraphale closed his book, got a very serious look on his face. “Crowley, what’s wrong?”

“You,” Dagon answered for him. Suddenly, he was grabbing Aziraphale by his jacket, pulling him up to his feet, going nose-to-nose with him. “You need to  _ fall _ .”

Aziraphale’s face grew frightened and confused. “Crowley? This-this isn’t you. It can’t be you.”

“It is me,” Dagon said with Crowley’s mouth.

_ No!  _ Crowley wanted Aziraphale to know that it wasn’t him, so that he wouldn’t feel hurt by him. He wanted to tell him who was really doing this, what was going on.

_ “Watch your precious angel break.” _

All Crowley could repeat in his head was “no” as Dagon dragged Aziraphale across the room and slammed him against the wall. Then she…  _ he _ was kissing him, hard. He could feel Aziraphale’s lips against his, hard and unwilling, could feel his jacket under his hands, could feel everything like he himself was doing this. But he  _ wasn’t.  _

“Crowley, stop!” Aziraphale cried when he pulled away. Suddenly, Aziraphale’s clothes just weren’t there anymore. Dagon apparently saw no need to waste time with physically taking them off and had used magic instead. 

Dagon punched Aziraphale hard in his soft gut, and the angel doubled over with a grunt, the air leaving him. Then she was punching him in the face, and Crowley shed more tears at the feeling of his fist against his face, of his skin breaking. There was golden blood on his hand, on Aziraphale’s cheekbone, bruising already starting. 

Dagon punched him again, and again, until Crowley heard a snap and Aziraphale gave a pained cry. His nose had broken. Crowley had felt it happen under his own hand like he himself was doing this. His tears fell harder.

_ Stop, stop! Please stop! _

“Crowley,” Aziraphale panted. “This isn’t you. I know it’s not you.”

“It is.”

Dagon threw Aziraphale to the floor on his stomach, put a booted foot on his back to keep him there.

“Who-whoever’s in Crowley’s body, get out! You don’t belong there! It’s not yours!”

“My body belongs to Hell.”

_ No!  _ Even as Crowley thought it, he knew it was true. The moment he’d fallen, the moment Satan had stroked his face and named him Crawly, he’d belonged to Hell. He’d tried getting away from them, changing his name, his style, tried being unique and his own demon. But here he was with a Lord of Hell in his body, because that body belonged to her and every other Lord of Hell. He was meant to serve them, and he hadn’t done that, had meddled with their plans instead. And so here he was, watching himself beat Aziraphale, knowing he was going to be made to do much worse.

“It doesn’t! Crowley, if you’re in there, fight!”

_ How? _

“Fight whoever this is! Get them out!”

Crowley tried. He used his will. He found Dagon’s will in his body, battered against it with invisible fists. It shuddered, but held. She was stronger than him.

Dagon laughed inside his head.  _ “So you can withstand holy water but you can’t even fight me?” _

Crowley didn’t respond, continued bashing against her will, trying to break it, trying to drive it away and out of him.

Dagon was undoing Crowley’s belt.

_ Stop! _

Crowley managed to punch her will hard, and so he let out a sob through his own mouth. That’s all he was capable of on his own: crying.

Dagon got down on the floor, knelt over Aziraphale. Crowley’s cock was hard, pressing against Aziraphale’s backside. Dagon was using her own power to hold Aziraphale to the floor without using Crowley’s hands. All the angel could do was scrabble uselessly at the carpet.

“Crowley, please! I know this isn’t you! Fight it!  _ Fight! _ ”

Crowley tried. He really did. He tried his damned hardest, but that didn’t stop Dagon from spreading the cheeks of Aziraphale’s ass and using his cock to enter his body. Crowley had never felt more violated in his life, and his own violation was being used to give the same feeling to Aziraphale.

He slid right in like he was meant to be there, as Aziraphale did with him, and Aziraphale cried out. Crowley hoped that hadn’t hurt him, that it was a cry at the sensation and the violation. He didn’t want this to hurt.

_ “Oh, but I do.” _

_ Dagon, stop,  _ Crowley pleaded. In his own mind he fell to his knees, fists pressed against the wall that was Dagon’s will.  _ Please. Do anything you want to me. Just stop it. Don’t hurt him. _

Dagon made Crowley’s body begin thrusting, and it wasn’t slick like it had been before. There was so much friction that it hurt Crowley as well, and he felt something in Aziraphale tear. Crowley wanted to yell at his own pain and Aziraphale’s but instead his mouth laughed. Tears got on his lips, his tongue. The saltiness was bitter and fitting. 

Aziraphale yelled, and Crowley cried in his head.

_ No, please. Not Aziraphale, not him.  _

And Crowley knew that this wouldn’t even be the worst part, that if Dagon was correct, Aziraphale would fall from this. He would be tainted by a demon and would become one himself.

Crowley pounded as hard as he could against Dagon’s will, and he felt her stumble.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley cried. It was him this time, not Dagon. “It’s Dagon!” He only had a few seconds. He could feel her righting herself, ready to take him again. “You have to fight back! Fight me!”

“I won’t! I won’t hurt you!”

“Do it!”

And he was gone again. He was thrown so hard in his head that everything went black for a moment. He came to with Aziraphale still underneath him, still thrusting into him like it had been his own idea and not Dagon’s. 

_ Fight me! Fight me! _

Aziraphale couldn’t hear him, and Aziraphale wouldn’t. Crowley knew he wouldn’t. He cared too much about him. He didn’t want to hurt him, though someone was using Crowley’s body to do it.

Aziraphale sobbed. His hands clutched at the carpet. Crowley knew he had the power to fight him, to throw him off, but he didn’t. Crowley begged for Aziraphale to fight him, begged to feel Aziraphale’s power crashing into his body and throwing him off. He begged to feel pain from Aziraphale, because that would mean Aziraphale was fighting.

But he didn’t do it. He just laid there and took it.

“No!” Crowley managed to yell. “You’ll fall! Fight me!”

Dagon’s will came back so hard that his body jerked and nearly fell off Aziraphale. It hurt, like someone was stabbing a knife right through his skull. Crowley screamed, but no one could hear him except for Dagon, and he knew that Dagon liked it.

It went on. Crowley weakened as he fought Dagon. Then all he could do was kneel there with his fists pressed against her will, crying hard in both his head and reality.

_ Stop, stop, stop.  _

She didn’t. Crowley’s body finished, released into Aziraphale, and Crowley felt the pleasure of it, felt his seed mingle hot with the angel’s golden blood.

It was done.

Aziraphale was going to fall.

_ “Have fun picking up the pieces, traitor.”  _ Then Dagon left his body, and Crowley had control of it again. He tumbled off of Aziraphale, on the floor beside him, panting, trying to regain his strength from what had just happened. He wanted to heal Aziraphale but he didn’t have the power to at the moment. The struggle with Dagon had sapped him of everything, and he would need time to recharge.

“Aziraphale.”

“Crowley?”

“It’s me,” he confirmed. He sobbed, moved close and clutched Aziraphale’s head. He was staring at him, blue eyes wide, tears streaming from them. “It’s me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do this,” Aziraphale told him. “You didn’t.”

“I tried fighting her. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“It’s okay.” Aziraphale brought a hand up and gripped Crowley’s.

“It’s not.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, face very said. “I… It hurts, Crowley. My grace is leaving me. And it  _ hurts _ .”

Crowley rolled onto his side, took Aziraphale into his arms. “I know it does, I know.” Yes, that part of falling had definitely hurt, feeling his divinity leaving him, being replaced by darkness and evil. Aziraphale had been tainted, and now he was falling. Crowley was just glad he wouldn’t have to suffer the pool of liquid sulfur, unless Hell wasn’t done with them yet…

Aziraphale let his wings out as he cried into Crowley’s shoulder. He held him tightly, apparently not caring that his body had just been used to hurt him. He could tell the different between Crowley, and Dagon using his body.

Through misted eyes, Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s wings. The brilliant white feathers were losing their shine, were beginning to lose their color as well, turning first a light shade of gray, then dark gray. It started at his primary feathers, the light, fluffy ones that Crowley loved to run his hands through, then went down to his secondaries, then his long flight feathers. Aziraphale jolted like he’d been electrocuted, muffling a scream against Crowley’s shoulder. It was finished. Aziraphale had fallen.

  
  


After Aziraphale had healed himself and cleaned the both of them off, they just sat beside each other in the living room in stunned silence. Aziraphale had found his clothes discarded on the other side of the room and had donned them without the use of magic. His eyes had been so sad as he fixed his bow tie. Crowley hadn’t been able to watch, had just been staring at the floor. He was doing that now.

“Hell did this,” Crowley said. “They wanted to punish me, and they knew that the greatest punishment would be in hurting you. I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale’s hand found Crowley’s, and then Crowley felt his gaze on him. He looked to meet him in the eye. 

“This isn’t your fault, Crowley.”

“It is. If I hadn’t been with you, if I hadn’t betrayed Hell, if I hadn’t-”

Aziraphale put a finger to his lips to quiet him. “It’s not your fault.” Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him very gently on the mouth. His lips were soft and willing this time, and Crowley kissed back. How could he not with how much he loved him?

Aziraphale pulled away, looking sad, and Crowley knew it was his turn to comfort him. Aziraphale looked across the room towards the blank television.

“So I’m a demon,” he said.

“I suppose.”

“Will I be… ugly like the rest of them?” He was looking at him again, frightened.

Crowley touched Aziraphale’s face. “Aziraphale, no matter what happens, you could never be ugly to me.”

They kissed again.

  
  


“It’s done,” Dagon told Michael. She was standing in the white glory of Heaven. It was empty. It was disgusting.

“Good,” Michael said, looking satisfied. She had a small smile on her face. “Now we don’t have to deal with Aziraphale, and you’ve punished Crowley.”

It was Dagon’s turn to smile. “He wept like a baby.”

“Did Aziraphale?”

Dagon nodded. She was so satisfied with what she’d just done. It had been a long time since she’d controlled another demon’s body like that. Most other demons kept up wards against it, and she had been pleasantly surprised to find that Crowley’s were down. After discovering it, she’d talked to Beelzebub and Hastur, who said the punishment was a good idea, but that they should take it up with Heaven. Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel had instantly agreed, wanting nothing more than to be rid of Aziraphale. Now every party had gotten what they wanted.

_ Hell’s greatest punishment _ , Dagon thought to herself as she left Heaven.  _ Two birds, one stone.  _ Crowley and Aziraphale were taken care of.


End file.
